by Perry Rhodan
"I don't think they understood everything literally," Freddy said, "but they did seem to understand that both we and they are in danger."
"Do you think they'll come back to pick us up?"
Freddy shrugged. "Perhaps. But with them, who can tell?"
• • •
The long day passed almost without incident.
At length the sun set. Mullon and Freddy discussed the former's plans while behind them, in the shadow of the overhanging bank, Milligan sat cleaning the rifle he had commandeered from Suttney.
Mullon heard him as he suddenly leaped up and gave a warning cry. Instinctively Mullon rolled to the side and looked out across the river to the opposite shore.
On the riverbank stood a man whose outline was a sharply defined silhouette against the light of the setting sun. Astounded, Mullon saw him raise his arms and wave. He did not seem to be armed: at least he did not carry a rifle.
Mullon stood up. "Milligan, hold your gun ready!" he ordered, not looking at Milligan. Then he called over the roaring of the river to the stranger: "What do you want?"
The stranger put his hand to his mouth and called back: "Actually nothing! I only came by here by accident!"
"Come over here!" Mullon ordered.
The stranger obeyed. He was an even better swimmer than Milligan. Wet but smiling happily, he climbed up onto the bank. "Since you seem to be hiding out here," he said, "may I assume that you're not some of Hollander's people... good God! Is it really, you, Mullon?" He was shocked.
Mullon nodded. "In the flesh. I'm not the slightest bit dead. And who are you?"
"My name is Chellish. I can imagine you never heard of me before. Earlier I was a follower of Mr. Hollander. What he's been pulling off lately hasn't been at all to my liking, so I got up and left."
"And where were you going?"
"That way, to the northwest. I'd seen a little of the area from the helicopter while I was flying on Hollander's order to look for Mrs. Mullon and Milligan."
"What did you want in the northwest?"
"Off that way are some forests—real forests, not those clammy jungles like those in the east. I'm from Maine, on the Atlantic coast, and know my way around woods pretty well. I'd come out all right, I think. Besides, I have a pistol too." Throwing caution to the winds, he pulled the gun out of his pants pocket and threw it to Mullon.
Mullon caught it and asked in surprise: "What should I do with it?" Chellish grinned. "If I were in your place, Mr. Mullon, I wouldn't believe a word that damned Chellish says. And I bet that's just how you feel."
"Not so much now," smiled Mullon.
"So where are you going?" asked Chellish.
Mullon smiled more broadly. "I'm not quite sure yet if it's any of your business."
"Understandable," Chellish admitted. "I asked only because I'd really like to go with you. Four are better than one. So if you can get over your mistrust, I'd be very much obliged. And now, I hope you have no objection if I go sack out a little bit. I'm dog tired." Without another word he stood up, walked up the bank a short distance and laid down. After awhile his regular breathing showed he was in fact asleep, in spite of the hard rock on which he lay.
• • •
The opinion about Chellish was not unanimous. Milligan made it clear in no uncertain words that if it were up to him, he would chase the man away.
That would have been without doubt the safest procedure. But Mullon felt he could trust the young man and told himself that he would not be running too great a risk if he took Chellish along to the dwarfs—assuming that the dwarfs were able to transport a fourth man. One could withhold Chellish's pistol and what damage could he do then?
Freddy agreed with her husband. Milligan was outvoted and he was appeased only by the argument that they needed every available man. Basically he did not really mistrust Chellish; it was just that the risk of trusting him seemed too great.
Chellish got up again shortly after sundown and came over. "Good evening," he said politely. "Have you
decided on anything?"
"Yes," said Mullon, "we're taking you with us—providing our means of transportation can be stretched to accommodate you."
Chellish raised his eyebrows. "Means of transportation?" he asked in surprise. "Do you have any?"
Mullon nodded. "I hope you'll see them presently." He had just finished speaking when a shining blue
iridescence rippled over the edge of the riverbank and came to a stop, hovering just above the ground. The blue dwarfs had returned.
Mullon looked at Chellish, noting how the spectacle astonished him.
Meanwhile, Freddy had counted the dwarfs. "There are about 150," she told Mullon. "I don't think that's enough for Chellish."
"Please find out exactly," Mullon instructed her, then walked back to Chellish, who still stared at the flashing, dancing, shimmering figures.
"What are they?" he asked as Mullon came up.
"Those are our goblins," answered Mullon with a smile. "Anyway, I came to give you some bad news."
"Yes?"
"These 150... er, goblins aren't enough to carry four people. You'll have to remain behind—temporarily, if you're agreeable."
Chellish looked at him. "You mean you'll send your goblins to come fetch me?"
"That's right."
"How long will it take?"
"That I can't say. These beings are so alien that—"
"Are you trying to tell me these arebeings? " Chellish interrupted vehemently. "And intelligent beings at that?"
"Of course! But let me finish what I was saying! These beings are so alien that no one can guess what they'll do next. Up to now they've done everything we've asked without expecting any thanks—Just a moment, here comes Freddy!"
"They can only take three people," Freddy said with some excitement. "But they're ready to send a messenger on ahead immediately so that another group can arrange as soon as possible to pick up Mr. Chellish."
"There you go!" said Mullon.
"Alright," said Chellish, "that's fine with me. No, more than that: I'm very grateful to you. I'll just wait right here, then?"
"Right. Under the circumstances it won't be even three hours before you're picked up."
"Great. And these... well, whatever-you-call-them—can I trust them?"
"Hmm," said Mullon, looking thoughtfully at the dancing hordes. An idea had just occurred to him: how he could tell if Chellish were trustworthy or a traitor?
"I can tell you this much," Mullon said at length. "They're telepaths. If you have something up your sleeve you'd better be a long way away by the time they come to pick you up."
Chellish laughed. "I'll be here."
Chellish watched as Freddy and Milligan and Mullon prepared to break camp. Then he saw them suddenly float into the air, rise past the summit of the steep bank and disappear beyond it. Before them glided the swarm of blue dwarfs, the iridescent light of their bodies quickly lost in the tall grass of the prairie.
For some time Chellish stood numb and speechless. The glow and faint whispering had vanished into the distance. Then he suddenly shook his head and murmured: "Hang it all, anyway! When I tell Capt. Blailey about this he'll think I've been trying out the colonists' home brew. Well, I'll try, anyway."
He crouched under the overhanging riverbank, made an adjustment on his wristwatch and spoke in a low voice: "Sunny Maid, Sunny Maid, Sunny Maid."
A thin, tinny voice sounded from the wristwatch a moment later: "You've waited long enough. Blailey here. Go ahead."
As per agreement, Chellish said: "Excuse me, sir, I don't know any Blailey."
"Then the devil take you. Sunny Maid is the prettiest girl in Kansas City. Now go ahead!"
Chellish grinned into the darkness, then began his report.
He told how it had taken him three days to reach Greenwich after leaving the Gazelle, now hidden in a in mountain valley 60 miles from the town, and had arrived in the middle of chaos. He had no trouble concealing hi
s identity, for the town stood on its ear. It had been much more difficult to restrain himself from showing Hollander who he was and telling him that it would take only one word for Hollander and his entire defense troop to be taken prisoner and shipped off to Earth for trial.
In the five days he spent in Greenwich, he had learned everything he needed to know. Finally, he had even witnessed the search for Suttney and the missing sentry's eventual discovery.
Chellish reported further that he had begun to search for the missing Terrans himself and instead of two had found three.
In conclusion he described in a few words what he had just experienced on the riverbank. "You're trying to lengthen my leg!" ("Pull my leg" in 20th century vernacular) snorted Blailey.
Chellish laughed. "I thought that would be your reaction, sir. But that part of the events lasted at least 10 minutes and I even pinched myself a few times."
"Alright. You say they'll pick you up?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then let them. Report back to me later when you have an opportunity. Good luck. Over and out." Chellish leaned back against the riverbank and waited.
In the Gazelle-type scouting craft lying amid the mountains far to the west, Capt. Blailey transmitted a coded message. A few astronomical units from Grautier it was received by a relay ship hanging motionless in space and passed on to Earth. An hour later Blailey had a response: "Continue observation. No intervention yet. Make regular reports." The message ended with a code sign indicating none other than the Peacelord himself had sent it.
Blailey whistled through his teeth. "Rhodan!" he exclaimed. "He must be taking a personal interest in this Grey Beast planet business!" He went to his seat and sat down. "This Mullon must be quite a man," he thought to himself. "He'll probably straighten the mess out without our help."
Rhodan hoped so too but hedged his bets with Blailey and Chellish, guardians of the banned.
THE BLUE DWARFS
Copyright © Ace Books 1974
Ace Publishing Corporation
by arrangement with Arthur Moewig Verlag
All Rights Reserved
THE SHIP OF THINGS TO COME
A NEW MUTANT.
Jost Kulman enters the scene. And what a scene. The menace from the Other Dimension swoops and scoops up 20,000 Swoons! The Swoons: the microtex, the micro-technicians, specialists in techniques of ultra-smallness whose scientists could prove of immense future help to Perry Rhodan's cosmic agents.
The Robot Regent's fine Arkonidean 'hand' is also at work, attempting to outwit Perry. Is it likely the positronicon will succeed? Unlikely. Very. Nevertheless, there'll be plenty of suspense when you encounter—
THE MICRO-TECHS
by Clark Darlton
